Cinderella on His Doorstep / Accidentally Expecting!: Cinderella on His Doorstep. Rebecca Winters

solid pounding of his heart changed the momentum of hers. Aware of his fingers making ever-increasing rotations against her skin through her top, she felt a weakness attack her body. Pleasure pains ran down her arms to her hands.

      “I—I wanted to thank you.” She could hardly get the words out.

      “For what?” he demanded, turning her around, causing her head to loll back. His dark gaze pierced hers. “That sounded like you’re leaving on a trip. Mind telling me where you’re going?”

      “The landfill? It may be a French one, but I can still think of more romantic places.”

      “Dana.” His voice grated.

      Of course he already knew the answer to his own question, but his male mouth was too close. Her ache for him had turned into painful desire. She needed to do something quick before she forgot what they were talking about.

      “I should have taken your advice before you went to so much trouble for me.” She tried to ease away from him, but he didn’t relinquish his hold. “My only consolation is that it’s one room less you’ll have to clean and furnish once you get started on the inside of the château.”

      Those black eyes roved over her features with increasing intensity. “You knew your father wasn’t going to approve. What’s changed?”

      Dana moistened her lips nervously. “Remember the old saying about picking your battles?” She noticed a small nerve throbbing at the corner of his mouth. In other circumstances she’d love to press her lips to it. “This one isn’t important.”

      She kept trying for a little levity, hoping it would help. It didn’t. Her comment had the opposite effect of producing a smile. Some kind of struggle was going on inside him before his hands dropped away with seeming reluctance.

      This was the moment to make her exit. “See you around, Alex.”

      Needing to put distance between them, she went back to the château to pack. It had emptied except for Paul and David. While they were talking in the grand salon, she hurried out to the car with her suitcase and headed for the hotel.

      The same woman she’d talked to before smiled at her. “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Lofgren.”

      “Bonsoir, madame. I need the key to room eleven, please.”

      Her arched brow lifted. “Eleven? But it is already occupied.”

      “I know. My father and I have adjoining rooms.”

      “Non, non. A Mademoiselle Brusse checked in a little while ago. I’ve already given her the key.”

      Something strange was going on.

      “I see. Thank you for your help, madame.”

      “Of course.”

      Dana grabbed her suitcase and opted for the stairs rather than the lift. Once she reached the next floor, she walked midway down the hall and knocked on her father’s door several times, but he didn’t answer. No doubt he was with Saskia, but this couldn’t wait. She pulled out her cell phone and called him.

      “Dana?” He’d picked up on the second ring.

      “Hi, Dad. What’s going on? I tried to check in my room, but the desk said Saskia had picked up the key.”

      He answered her question with another one. “Where are you?”

      “Standing in front of your hotel room door.”

      “I’ll be right out.” The line went dead.

      Within seconds he joined her in the hall and shut the door behind him. His famous scowl was more pronounced than earlier in the day. “Saskia and I have been having problems, but I can’t afford to end things with her until after the picture’s finished. She doesn’t know my intentions of course.”

      Dana was glad her father was coming to his senses for his own sake.

      “She begged me to let her stay in the adjoining room while we work out our differences.”

      Poor Saskia. “That sounds reasonable.”

      His eyes darted to her suitcase. “Saskia’s room is free at the hotel in Angers. I called and told the concierge to have it waiting for you.”

      “Thank you,” she muttered, “but I’ll make my own arrangements.”

      There was a long silence before he said, “If you go back to the château, you do so at your own peril.”

      Their gazes clashed. “And Monsieur Martin’s, too?”

      His eyes flashed with temper. “How did that man get his tentacles into you so fast?” he countered.

      Dana stood her ground. “Why won’t you answer the question, Dad?”

      It took him forever to respond.

      “I still forbid you, but as you reminded me earlier with all the carelessness of your culture, you’re not seventeen anymore.”

      He went back in the bedroom. As she turned away, she heard the door close. Despite his hurtful remark, she was confident he wouldn’t penalize Alex. Not because he’d had a sudden attack of human decency, but because he knew he’d never find a spot this perfect for his film.

      Her throat felt tight all the way back to the château where she discovered the gate had been closed. A symbolic dagger for the trespasser to beware?

      She closed her eyes, afraid she was being as superstitious as her father. After a minute, she reached for her purse and pulled out the remote. Once she’d driven on through, she shut it again, then continued on to the courtyard.

      After getting out of the car, she tried to open the front door, but it was locked and Alex’s truck was nowhere in sight. He might still be around the back, working. Acting on that possibility, she drove to the other end of the château. It wound around to the orchard.

      He wasn’t there.

      A hollow sensation crept through her. She checked her watch. It was already eight o’clock. Disturbed that he might have made plans with a woman and had gone into Angers for dinner, she drove to the front of the château once more.

      Of course she could phone him, but he wouldn’t appreciate a call if he was with someone else. Besides, he’d thought she’d gone back to the Hermitage for good. The only thing to do was drive to the next village in the opposite direction from Chanzeaux where she wouldn’t run into her father by accident. After grabbing a bite to eat, she would come back and wait for Alex.

      “Bonsoir, Monsieur Martan.”

      “Bonsoir, Madame Fournier. Has Mademoiselle Lofgren checked in yet?” He hadn’t seen Dana’s car outside.

      She shook her head. “Non, monsieur. She doesn’t have a reservation here.”

      “Then her father isn’t staying here, either?”

      “But of course he is! The person in the adjoining room is Mademoiselle Brusse. She’s an actress doing a film with le fameux Monsieur Lofgren.”

       His hands clenched in reaction. If Dana hadn’t come here, then she’d probably driven into Angers to get herself a hotel room. The last trip to the landfill had cost him time before he’d showered and changed clothes, thus the reason he’d missed her.

      “Merci, madame.” Before she could detain him with more gossip, he went back outside to phone Dana from the truck. It rang seven times. He was about ready to hang up in frustration when he heard her voice.

      “Alex?” She sounded out of breath.

      “What’s wrong?” he demanded without preamble.

      “My left front tire is flat. I’ve been trying to work the jack, but I’ve been having problems. Pretty soon I’ll figure it out.”

      The